


The Other Night

by megyal



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-22
Updated: 2011-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. Christian and Syed's first night, right after their first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Night

**Author's Note:**

> I was willingly dragged into this pairing by [](http://jadziadrgnrdr.livejournal.com/profile)[**jadziadrgnrdr**](http://jadziadrgnrdr.livejournal.com/)'s Machiavellian machinations. Basically, I was hooked by a gif, and then sunk by a WHOLE YOUTUBE PLAYLIST OF CLIPS. That was two weeks ago. (I see writers in the fandom actually give the date of the episode they might be writing around, so, somewhere around 2009-06-19/2009-06-23? THIS IS NEW FOR ME OK.) I'm pretty sure that this particular scene has been written, like, 1000 times before. What's one more? Some section-separators are lines of dialogue lifted straight from the show.

_Just as long as we're clear: the other night? Never happened._

+

The 'other night' is a Friday night; usually a night Christian would use to get out, shake his arse somewhere public and get back home with or without some fit young thing to kick out of his bed in the morrow.

Instead, he's bringing Syed home. So much wrong with that sentence, an entire _galaxy_ of wrongs, because this is _Syed_. Syed, who's managed to find all the ways to crawl under Christian's skin and settle there right proper, all annoying-like. Syed, who shouldn't be walking through Christian's front door after him, even if he _is_ some fit young thing. Syed, who is _Zainab's_ son and _god_ , so much wrong.

But Syed had kissed him first. Christian's pretty sure of that; he still has a sense-memory of Syed's tense arm in his grip, the surprisingly firm press of his mouth, the scratchiness of his mustache against Christian's upper lip. Syed shouldn't be here, but Christian hasn't felt this hot curl of want deep in his groin for such a long time. He tells himself that there's this whole forbidden aspect, giving him a hefty dose of sensual excitement. He believes that, really.

"Something to drink?" Christian asks as he locks to the door. Syed stares at the doorknob for a long time, as if he's calculating how much energy it would take to lift his hand and turn it, escaping into the oncoming night. If he leaves, Christian will let him go. No harm, no foul, yeah? They could move on from something like this; be best mates, even. There's a thought.

Christian pretends he isn't holding his breath, exhaling slowly when Syed finally nods, looking right into his eyes.

"Some tea would be nice."

"Tea." Christian nods as well. "Right. Come upstairs, then."

+

 _All I'm trying to say to you is, the other night felt good to me. And I think it felt good to you, too_

+

The tea's a bit too sweet, and nowhere decently strong enough, but Christian doesn't taste a single drop of it. They're standing in the kitchen, a no-man's land of an arms' length between them, sipping quietly from mismatched mugs. Christian has never given any of his blokes _tea_ before. He feels as if he's sailing in uncharted waters, so he tries to calm himself by staring at Syed's face. Syed's eyes are downcast as he attends to his own beverage. Christian, who always thought in a rather distant fashion that Syed was a bit cute, is a little taken aback at how handsome he looks right now. He looks right edible; Christian is concerned to discover that his hands are sweating.

 _Man up_ , he tells himself. _Just another bit of arse, that's all. This isn't Ashley, or even Lee._ Then, Syed looks up at him over the rim of his mug, and Christian actually licks his lips in anticipation. Syed lowers his cuppa and smiles; it seems a little nervous and a lot rueful, and as dramatic as Syed's face can get, Christian isn't quite sure what to make of his expression at this time.

Syed puts the mug down on the nearby counter, taps his fingers near it. Christian suddenly wants those fingers inside him, curling in just right, mapping out every surface. He has to set down his own cup, the contents sloshing around inside, because his hands have begun to shake.

"All right, there?" Syed asks and this isn't _right_ , because he sounds fairly calm for someone who's not supposed to be bent, but is apparently gagging for it. Isn't Christian the one who should be all collected and seductive at this point? "Christian," Syed says, tasting the name carefully. He takes a step forward, staring at Christian's face with wide, dark eyes. "Christian," he whispers, and right, that's quite enough, Christian can't take this anymore.

He reaches out, but Syed is already there, arms going around Christian's neck as if they were made to exist in that location, and nowhere else. Syed's mouth meets his, hard and warm, and when he parts his lips, Christian lets his tongue slide inside, accompanied by an appreciative groan. Syed tastes brilliant, like tea and spices. Hot and sweet. Syed kisses as if he's never going to kiss again, and Christian simply hangs on for the ride, stumbling out of the kitchen with an armful of writhing, gasping Syed.

Christian pauses, his hands underneath Syed's lovely white shirt and lying possessively against even lovelier warm skin, and says, "Here's my bed. We should have been in it ages ago, isn't that right?"

Syed looks at him, lips kiss-swollen and says, "Christian, we're at the door to your loo."

"Right you are." Christian takes a big step to the left, taking Syed with him. "Easy mistake. Anyone could have made it."

"Not in their own flat, they won't," Syed says, smiling and Christian can't help but smile back. "Anyone would think that you don't actually live here. Maybe all the pictures on your mantle are a sham?"

"I'm distracted," Christian says and sits down on his bed, gazing up at Syed. "You're horribly distracting."

"Am I?" Syed reaches out, touches Christian's hair tentatively. Christian, who dislikes when his hair is touched in any sexual situation, actually wants Syed to run both hands right through it, ruffle it out of its well-coiffed perfection. As if Syed has heard his wishes, his caress becomes braver, and Christian positively basks in the attention. Syed cups his face with both hands, leaning down for another kiss that reduces Christian to shivers.

 _This is not happening_ , Christian thinks with a short of amazed desperation. _I'm not about to have sex with Syed, of all people._ Apparently, it _is_ happening and seems to be shaping up into the kind of sex that will leave Christian staggered for _days_.

"I want you in me, Syed," he hears himself murmur against Syed's mouth, and he sounds as if he's on the verge of begging. "Please." Good; proper begging, excellent.

"... _in_ you?" Syed sounds incredulous as he straightens up, but one hand remains on Christian's cheek. "And then?" he asks, and Christian wishes he'd turned on the bedside lamp, because Syed's face is all in shadow.

"And then we'll see what happens."

"All right," Syed says, and trails his fingers down Christian's neck, past the collar of his shirt, to start plucking open the buttons of his shirt.

+

 _You want me to beg you, is that it? I won't beg you._

+

Christian uses Syed's name like a constant plea and tries not to thrust up. He grips handfuls of his crumpled sheets, to prevent himself from grabbing Syed's head and using his hold as leverage to fuck Syed's mouth. Syed is not the most expert cocksucker that Christian has been with. As a matter of fact, he isn't even really sucking Christian's cock, not really. Christian's not sure if he's bloody teasing with those kittenish licks up and down the rock-hard shaft, or the way he keeps burying his nose into that crease of crotch and thigh, drawing in deep inhales of Christian's scent. Whatever he's doing, he's obviously quite pleased with Christian's vocal reactions, because he _keeps doing it_.

Christian is torn between demanding a proper blowjob and begging for more of the same.

On top of that, he's petting around Christian's clenching hole with fingers sheathed in a condom, slipping in deeper and deeper with every flex. It's driving Christian insane, because he wants more.

"More," he moans, and Syed raises his head, looking up Christian's nude body. "Syed, come on."

Syed's still wearing his trousers, which Christian thinks is really unfair, since they'd both yanked off all of _his_ clothing a few moments earlier. Christian simply can't wait anymore. He sits up hurriedly, and Syed sits back in turn, blinking at him. His fingers slide out of Christian, who is of the fervent belief that _something_ should replace those fingers, and _soon_.

"Get the rest of your kit off," Christian demands, grabbing for another condom that had been scattered on the bed beside them. "Now, Sy, _now_."

Syed obeys rather quickly and Christian pounces on him as soon as his sensible pants are peeled off, wrapping one hand around that nice stiffy and giving it a firm but loving stroke. Syed, who had been fairly quiet to this point, gives voice to a throaty moan, the vibrations of which race up the ladder of Christian's spine and hits his brain like a hammer. They both fumble together to roll the condom down Syed's prick, and it nearly doesn't get on because they're so clumsy. Christian's own cock is leaking when he goes back on his elbows, draws his legs up and spreads his knees wide. He hurriedly tucks one of his pillows under his hips to incline them a bit more, and then he's ready again, eager, waiting. Now, Syed, _now_.

Syed kneels between his legs. He isn't looking in Christian's face when he grasps his cock, and Christian wants none of that.

"Syed," he calls just as he feels the broad head push against his slick entrance. Syed looks up, seemingly surprised as he presses inside Christian, who hasn't been on this side of business in quite some time, but remembers enough to relax. Syed fills him with slow, probing penetrations, rocking in and out.

He keeps his gaze locked with Christian's as he's fully seated inside. Syed slides his hands up the backs of Christian's thighs, pushing so that Christian's knees are near his ears. Christian really wants to sling his legs over Syed's shoulders, but the thought is all jumbled up with satisfied incredulity over Syed's cock inside him, that he actually forgets to do it until some time later, when Syed is nailing him right proper into the mattress.

Now, all he can do is smile and say breathlessly, "Well? Do get on with it."

+

"Give me an hour," he says between harsh pants when Syed pulls out of him, carefully holding the condom. Christian's stomach is streaked with the drying traces of his own ejaculate. He'd gone out of his mind just now, arching up mindlessly as his orgasm wracked through his body, clenching around Syed's prick and dragging him over the same blinding edge. " _One hour_ , Sy, and I'll show you a thing or two."

"One whole hour?" Syed says, tying off the condom and tossing it over the side of the bed. "Poor dear. So old."

"You're awful cheeky," Christian observes, squinting as Syed settles beside him on the bed, lying on his stomach. He mock-pouts as he strips off a pillowcase and uses it to wipe at his stomach, tossing it away. Turning onto his side, relishing the ache in his arse, he strokes damp strands of Syed's hair from where they've stuck to his forehead. His vision, grown accustomed to the dark, seems to drink Syed in hungrily.

"Syed."

"Yes?"

Christian has nothing to say, not really. That's kind of a surprise even to himself, since he's rarely at a loss for words. He just wants to call Syed's name again and again. Syed gives him another one of those enigmatic smiles, and closes his eyes.

Christian can't even wait the full hour. He coaxes Syed out of a surprisingly deep sleep, and discovers that while Syed is well grumpy at such a moment (especially since Christian has gone and switched on the bedside lamp), this mood is thoroughly mitigated by slow frotting and even slower kisses, until Syed is clutching blindly at him, legs wrapped around Christian's waist and undulating so marvellously beneath him that Christian almost pushes in, bare and dry. As it was, the head of Christian's prick is pressed the furled entrance to Syed's body when some common sense comes racing back.

"Wait," he says, and grins against Syed's mouth when he makes noises of complaint. "Syed, roll over."

"Don't want to," Syed says but he does as he's asked, head pillowed on his folded arms.

"Up, love." Christian taps him lightly on the side of his leg. "Up, for me." Briefly, as Syed wriggles up onto his elbows and knees, Christian entertains the notion of rimming him; it's so appealing, but he wants to put the idea to Syed when they're not in bed. He wants Syed to feel comfortable with it, not pressured into it just because they were already having sex.

He wants too much right now. Christian immediately recognizes the amount of trouble he's gotten himself into, bugger it all, but his fingers are already working Syed open, so very carefully because Syed's gone a bit tense on him. He reaches around, touches Syed's half-erect cock and says, "We don't have to, if you--"

"You'd better get in me some time tonight," Syed says, very quietly. "I want it." He breathes deeply, his back moving with the action of inhalation and exhalation. Christian is entranced by just that little movement. "I want you."

Any harder, and Christian's prick would probably wrench off. He takes a few moments just to breathe, removing his lube-slick fingers and peering at how Syed's hole winks fitfully back at him. He doesn't quite believe he's inside Syed until he's actually _inside_ Syed, his forehead pressed against Syed's back in an attempt to recover from the tight heat enclosing his prick. However, the other man breathes so quickly beneath him, at such a panicky rate that Christian reaches around and strokes his chest soothingly, crooning out comforting nonsense.

Without thinking about it, he sits back on his heels, and pulls Syed up with him so that they're kneeling, chest to back, in the middle of the bed. He's still balls-deep inside the man, and Christian wonders if he could stay there forever. Bit hysterical going to work, but it could happen. Syed moans, arches and twists in his lap; Christian licks his ear and sucks marks onto the skin stretched over his shoulder-blades. Syed grabs one of his hands; their grip on each other is painful, but Christian sees no reason to let go.

So, he doesn't.

+

 _The other night, you weren't playing. That was real._

+

Syed is dressing to leave, moving quietly so that he doesn't wake Christian. A bit moot, since Christian is wide awake, watching him. He tells himself that he doesn't have to say Syed's name and ask him to stay, because this was just one night. A bloody amazing night. Doesn't mean anything at all, really, even though there's this throbbing echo of Syed's cock inside him, or that he now knows how Syed gasps hoarsely when he comes. Not to mention how natural they felt together, how _easy_ it was.

He closes his eyes quickly when Syed turns towards him, and doesn't move when he feels Syed's fingers rest lightly on his shoulder.

"Christian," Syed says, but he doesn't sound as if he's checking if Christian is asleep or not. It's as if he just really likes to hear himself say the name. "Christian."

Christian keeps still; however, he remains awake long after the door clicks shut after Syed.

 _fin_


End file.
